...a cara.....its july 1st.....canada day....when this huge country celebrates its birthday....toronto is in festive mood....bbques...rib fests....music ....dancing and fireworks....and to add to the celebrations....the pride parade is holding the city in its excitement and bizaredness....the whole city gets caught up in the fun .....i was munching on a piece of peameal bacon and sausage as my 740 am radio station played a tom jones number.....the old home town looks the same as step off from the train...and there to meet me is my mam and papa.......down the road i look and theres runs mary....hair of gold...and lips like cherries....etc...its good to touch the green ...green grass of home.......believe it ...its a great feeling....and as i listened i began to think of the many times i got off that train in castlebar.....thye train rounded the curve at baloor...and steamed ...huffed ...and puffed.....in to the platform at castlebar station....the euphoric feelings began bubbling at manulla junction.....but as the carriage doors swung open at castlebar...with that familiar bark....castlebar....familiar faces marked the platform....jim foy...mr bradley....and i other times josie feeney....hackney drivers....paddy omalley ....john kenny...billy newell...hustled fares....ahh...! castlebar...my hometown.....nestled in the plains of mayo....saucered in the shadows of the reek...nephin....and the partry mountains.....the town then was encompassed by nearby farms.....and the perfumes of scorce...whin ....and bush scented the town in enviting aromas......i can still see those skies that seemed to hang over the town......and the suns tooth...sheathed in cloud....but i remember in the timeless quietness the warm blood bubbling up inside.......so this morning i began to think back on the town but more on the towns quite feature.....the river that runs through it......these thoughts were reinforced by the postings of my friend ....brian hoban....and his remarkable tales of walks by lough lannagh.....and of course other self thoughts.....the other day i was driving through the heart of etobicoke...a wetern suburb of the greater toronto metropolis......as i drove the road took me along the gorge that is the bedx of the humber river...one of the two rivers that divide this city and carve it in their own boundaries.....the humber river meanders through western ontario.....rising in the mighty niagara escarpment....and it twists and carves a path until it eventually flows into lake ontario....at humber bay.....as i drove by the river i stopped my car by the old mill.....and gaged at the dried up gulch...not a pretty vision.....this time of the yearas in this heat its almost dry.....its bed is a ...combination of ...dry hard clay...rock...shrubs.....and garbage... the odd tire...running shoe....fast food containers...rubber boots...and rubbers of another kind.....when i got home i began to think of another river....so familiar to me....it was as familiar as the ...pennrth of dandies toffees i had as a lad.....the town river...that flows through the heart of castlebar.....its as much ca\stlebar...as the town itself....its older than man...and it ages to outlast him.....the river carves its path....and weaves through towards the moy....and although its course was altered many years ago...it flows on like the ...the song on sweet afton cigarrete packages.....growing up it seemed to have no real purpose....but it was there running through the town ....like dublins liffey...or the mighty shannon....as lyoung lads we avhed to do what the older folks did....loof over the bridges...and we did...we climbed on the granite held o n for dear life and looked on the poluted waterflow gently along...in winter and spring in high flood.....ample perch could be seen navigating their way towards their next meal....the three main bridges were at molloys....main street at mcglinchkeys....and barrack bridge....a span crossed the river at the fairgreen...and later that became a favourite of mine to cross brab
ving the barbed wire....the river flowed from lough lannagh in a lived glide....meandering along by the hat factory....by cavendish lane....at marsh house...it had steps...and then under the bridge at molloys.....this bridge had another fascination.....here in the spring the swallows would return to rebuild their mud nests clinging on the side of the bridge....this annual event was as regular as the return of the swallows to the mission at sa juan capistrano.....each year at the same time each year swallows leave their winter home in argentina......and make the 6000 mile journey to san juan capistrano....its an annual spectacular event....as thousands of swallows make that trek.....ahhh!....when the swallows come back to capistrano...thats the day....you promised to come back to me......likewise in castlebar the swallows returned to molloys bridge....here they flew ....skimming the river....feasting on the abundance of bugs that swarmed the humid water....from the bridge we would look at the grey boat owned by the de la salle brothers....the stone wall retaining walls were time beaten and bulging...and filthy....down river by lavelles...was the next vantage point....here the many locals and wit...leaned over ...splurting their take o9n life ...and the monstrous ratsthat feasted on the dirty bounty of the river...the river rats ...could be seen climbing into their hovels in the gaping holes on the banks by the garden shop.....they scurried frantically along the walls....we often tried to hit them with stones as they slithered along....or with bones from tom cullens crubeens.....the bed in those days was littered in jam jars...old buckets...wellingtons...it was here at ....tony mcglincskey ...a young lad fell in ....two days later his body was salvaged on grappling hooks by charlie brinklow...who operated a flat botton boat,,,usually tied up at the barrack bridge....this flat bottomed barge....caused interest and curioity as it bobbed and danced on the water by the kettericks...the river meandered on its course under the barrack bridge past ...garveys...and faulkners...springfield....and through the fair green....it was spanned here by an iron girder....the river here always seemed dirtiest.....and the rats ...were as big as the otters that patrolled the banks for food....the eels were as big as the river monsters i experienced as i boated down the amazon to manaus brasil....as kids we were sternly cautioned about playing by the river and i got many a sock for just doing that.....myself and noel mc carthy fished the river and one time we caught a huge eel....it broke my pole....but we got it on land....it slitherd ...wiggled....and twisted hoping i guess to make it back to the river but it gave up...i brought it home tied it on our clothes line.....until the yell of nell keane....jaysus...olly...she cried...youll have every cat in the town in our back yards...i threw it over the lawn wall....the river never and its onlookers never gave up their curiosity ...in time i flew the coupe....and the river never seemed to be a thought...all i knew ...it was there like the town when i returned....i returned many times...but it was not until my time during my lost weekend the river was to become a player in my daily struggles....i had moved from my estate at massbrook....to islandaedy....where i lived in a house by the church...owned by tommy staunton....i fell under the scrutiny of fr. blowick...and im sure i made his blood pressure rise as i surfaced in a daily haze of drug and alcohol induced comas....i had been laid off at the bacon factory i had to go into town and report to that guardian of the dole...ms.flynn...she was authoritave...stern ...and strict...and frowned at us collecting a few bob.....but i didnt give a shit...as i stood beside the many regulars......jack cassidy...johnny corcoran...jim devanney....tommy dorsey....etc....one day as i reported she told me to report to the engineer at the three bridges islandaedy....the moy drainage was in full, swing...and i had to go to work.....i reported as ordered.....and soon ...aklong with my wellingtons....a gram of heroin...a jack hammer i was drilling holes in the river bed at the three bridges.....i could swing a jack hammer better than anyman....and got on famously with the ganger pat prendergast....we drlled ...we blasted ...and i got bonusses for hole drilling....and i got paid....and i drugged and drank....but never missed a day....eventuall the bed was deep enough....and the damn at the lake head had to be released...pat sent me to break the levy and the current was so strong i got flushed down the river....no problem....this job ended ...and soon i was reporting to the jim judge ganger on the town river crew.....here jcb dredged the bed ....cleaned it and deepened it.....i worked alogside my olf friends ....bluee...aka tailie...aka...mickie vguthrie...and john ryan....a track was laid down the bed ...and we shuttled concrete as we under pinned the bridge.....daisy clarke harpooned the fines rainbow trout and pike....one morning and we cooked it on the blade of a shovel.....each morning we damned the rivefr athe hat factory....we dug ou eels...rats....and on a regular basis...sgt.touhy of the siocholonie eyeballed me as i worked like a dog...i invited him down one day...but he declined....each lunch time taillie ...johnny ryan and myself had a liquid lunch at john kennys...as we entered ...john and annie would greet us...with ...well doctor....whats going on the river....we worked our way down to lavelles....and the crew was added with a few travellers ...some of the graetest guys in the world....we un housed the rats...cleaned the river...and moved onto the barrack ....bridge.....here i left the river after i threw a ganger donnely from ballyvarry into the river...when he became a pain in the ass....i told him ...shit or get off the pot....he didnt have the balls for either.....but now when i think of my town....i think fondly of the river...and sense that once upon a good time....i had a hand in cleaning it up....like the nuns wall ...i left my mark.....i hope soon to once again look over that bridge....and dream....
life is like a train that stops at no stations....you either jump on board...or stand on the platform ..and watch as it passes....
....tog go bog e....